This version has a few significant differences.

From The Vocal Annual, or Singer's Own Book for 1831 (London: Thomas Tegg, 1831), page 137:


MY OWN BLUE BELL.

My own blue bell!
My pretty blue bell!
I never will rove where roses dwell;
My wings you view
Of your own bright hue,
And, oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue!
Though oft, I own,
I've foolishly flown
To peep at each bud that was newly blown;
I now have done
With folly and fun,
For there's nothing like constancy under the sun.

My own blue bell, &c.

Some belles are blues
Invoking the Muse,
And talking of vast intellectual views;
Their crow quills [tip]
In the ink they dip,
And they prate with the lore of a learned lip.
Blue bells like these
May be wise as they please,
But I love my blue bell that bends in the breeze;
Pride passes her by,
But she charms my eye,
With a tint that resembles the cloudless sky.

My own blue bell, &c.